


Because Christmas takes on a whole new meaning during the Apocalypse

by QueenofSchmoop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Bisexuality, Bottom!Sam, M/M, Oral Sex, Schmoop, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Spoilers for the "Die Hard" movies, Spoilers up to "Abandon All Hope", Wincest-Freeform, brief mention Het, mention canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofSchmoop/pseuds/QueenofSchmoop
Summary: We didn’t get to see how season 4’s Christmas played out, unfortunately.  What about Season 5?





	1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester blinked hard as he looked around the diner. He rubbed at his eyes as if to wash away what he was seeing but it didn’t fade. He turned to look at his brother to make sure and saw that same gob-smacked expression on Dean’s face as well. 

“Christmas,” Dean muttered, taking in the plethora of decorations scattered around the place. “Shit.”

Sam huffed and led the way to the table, the perky waitress coming over wearing a pair of reindeer antlers on her head. “Whatcha like there, boys? Special’s the meatloaf today. Or you might try our eggnog, it’s good.”

“No thanks,” Sam injected quickly before Dean could make a sarcastic comment. “I’ll have turkey on wheat with a side of coleslaw, please.” 

“Burger, fries, Coke and a milkshake. Chocolate,” Dean specified. 

She scribbled all this down then nodded to them and walked away. Sam kicked Dean in the leg. “Ow! What was that for, bitch?!”

“She’s just doing her job.”

Dean snorted and started to play with his butter knife. “Hate Christmas.”

Sam couldn’t help but flash back to the previous year. It had been the first Christmas with Dean back, but he had still been with Ruby and Dean had just ‘done the deed’ with Anna, then watched her sacrifice herself. All told it had been a pretty quiet celebration. In fact, if Sam thought back, he wasn’t sure they had celebrated. Yeah, they’d spent the day on the road, driving to their next hunt. 

“Huh.”

“What?” Dean looked up from where he was balancing the knife on top of the salt shaker. 

Sam looked at him and knew better. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“You’re always thinking, Sammy,” Dean said and then looked up to see the waitress bringing their food. They ate in relative silence then paid the bill and went back out to the car. They had stopped for lunch on the drive, mostly just going a bit aimlessly while they waited for something to break on Lucifer. Sam pulled out his laptop and clicked away on it for a bit while Dean listened to Led Zeppelin. 

Finally, he turned the knob down and said, “turn right at the next exit.”

“Why?” Dean asked but he immediately got over and started looking, which made Sam smile. 

Sam said nothing, just settled back down and closed his laptop. Dean didn’t bother trying to get him to talk, he knew how Sam could be. Instead he turned the music back up and drove where Sam told him to. 

They pulled into a town called Williamstown and Sam directed the Impala to a nice looking hotel, much higher caliber than they usually stayed at. Dean shot him a look and started to say something but Sam held up his hand. 

“This was the only place that still had a room. It’s 2 days til Christmas, Dean, and most places were booked. It’s this or sleeping in the car.”

Dean growled and parked. Sam slid out and said, “wait here,” then took off for the front desk. Dean blinked--Sam almost never checked them in. He waited a long time then Sam finally came out looking pleased with himself. He slid back into the car with a “around the back”. 

Soon they were dumping their gear in room 401, Sam hooking his laptop up to the free wifi almost as soon as they were in the door. Dean left him to it, unpacking what was necessary and then going to the bathroom. When he came back out, Sam had shed one of his layers--it was nice to be a hotel room where the heat actually worked!--and was sitting in front of his computer looking pleased. 

“Find something?” Dean toed off his boots and flung himself on the bed. 

“Um, no. No hunts in the area.” Sam did that thing of running his hand through his hair. “We’re still going to stay here, right?”

Dean nodded. No sense wasting the room. He flicked on the TV and left Sam to play or whatever he was doing. He had settled in with Die Hard when his brother coughed. 

Without looking away from John McClane blasting the terrorists at Nakatomi, he asked, “what?”

“I’m gonna run out and get a few things, okay? I can pick up supper while I’m out. I mean, that’s about the time I’ll be back.”

Dean had a flash back to when Sam used to disappear like this when Ruby was still not ganked and pushed a spot of panic down. He forced his voice casual and said, “whatever.” He flapped a hand at his brother and focused harder on the movie. 

He heard Sam leave, heard the Impala start up and drive off and he let out an explosive breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He tried to re-focus on the movie but instead he found himself up and pacing. Twitchy, he called Bobby and let him know where they were and that they’d be staying at least the night. He asked for updates but Bobby had nothing. 

“No word from Cas?”

“Hey, Clarence talks to you and Sam, not to me, remember?”

At the mention of Christmas again, Dean made a face, then thanked Bobby and got back on the bed. He found himself getting back into the movie but every once in a while his mind would wander and he’d wonder where Sam was, worry about him. 

McClane had wasted the terrorists, won Holly back and was riding off in the limo with Argyle when Sam returned. He was carrying a bag that smelled delicious so Dean sprang up and took it from him. “Ribs, Sammy?”

“Thought you might like ‘em.” 

Dean paused then said, “thanks.” He pulled them out, along with the sides and the cokes and took the majority for himself. He waited for Sam to say something, to complain about him hogging but his brother didn’t. Chalking it up to Sam not wanting to eat meat or some shit like that, he dug in. The second Die Hard was playing now and he turned it up. 

Sam eventually settled down on his own bed with some ribs and they watched movie together. Looked like this channel was having a Die Hard marathon or something cause _With a Vengeance_ was on next. Unfortunately, they didn’t play the last one, but that was just fine with Dean. That computer geek reminded him of Sam. 

Tired from a day of driving, Dean announced he was going to take a shower and go to bed. “Don’t stay up too late playing with your hard drive,” he teased his brother who shot him a ‘very funny’ look and went on looking at his screen. 

As Dean settled in to bed after, he couldn’t help but think that this Christmas? Looked like it was going to be a lot like last years. 

When Dean woke up, he blinked hard as he looked around. For a minute he thought he’d fallen asleep at the diner or something. Because their room had been transformed into a Christmas extravaganza. A small fiber optic tree sat on the table. There were trinkets and doodads on nearly every surface, there was garland hung around, a big inflatable Christmas Snoopy over in the corner; Christmas was everywhere. 

He looked around again and then rolled over and covered his head with his blanket. He heard the door open and immediately tried to still his breathing so that it seemed he was still asleep. 

“Dean? You awake?”

Dean almost answered ‘no’, just for the hell of it but said nothing. Instead he heard Sam approach and stand by his bed. He could smell coffee and some kind of doughnut or pastry and his mouth watered but he stayed still. He heard Sam set whatever it was down and then he had to swallow a gasp of surprise as Sam sat down on the bed by him. He felt the ghost of a touch on his back and had to fight not to twitch. 

“Oh Dean.” Sam’s voice sounded…well, he had never really heard it sound like that so he didn’t know what to think. “Do you remember 2 years ago? When you tried to give me Christmas before you went to Hell? I promised myself I would give you the best Christmas ever after you got back. But I didn’t, did I?” He heard Sam swallow hard and did not move. “Maybe it’s stupid to do it for you now but, I want to. I need to. Will you let me?”

Dean said nothing. 

“C’mon, Dean, I know you’re awake.”

He rolled over and glared. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m your brother. Think I can’t tell when you’re playing possum?”

Dean flailed out a hand and smacked his brother somewhere fleshy, smiling at the grunt. “Sam, you didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Dean finally sat up and looked around, once again gaping at the overdone display. “God, you are such a girl,” he said at last. 

Sam couldn’t help the grin that broke out. “Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed the coffee and handed one to Dean. They sat there, sipping their coffee for a long time then Dean looked at Sam and said, “guess it can’t hurt.”

Sam hid the glee, or tried to anyway, and just let his grin stay on his face. 

“Shut up.”

The day passed. They both did their thing, the TV playing behind them, Christmas episodes and movies. As night approached they went out to eat supper, Denny’s open as always. After, Dean told Sam he had something to take care of. Sam, for once, didn’t argue. Instead, he went into the hotel room with an “okay, Dean”. 

When Dean got back later Sam was sitting and sipping a hot chocolate, watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” on TV. He threw his jacket over the chair, flopped down on the bed beside Sam and snatched the cup away. 

“Hey!”

“I’m cold.” He took a big gulp--luckily, it had cooled off--and handed it back. 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They watched the movie and then got ready for bed. As Dean started to drift off he said, “wake me up early and I will feed you to the demons, kid.”

A startled laugh burst out of Sam. Dean was amazed at how happy that sound made him. He listened to Sam settle down and then finally went to sleep himself. 

He woke up early Christmas morning and shuffled out to the Impala, dragging some packages out of the backseat--he’d figured Sam would use the trunk to hide his stuff--and bringing them inside. He placed them on the table, around the little tree and then glanced over at Sam. He climbed back into bed and settled in. He had drifted off when he heard Sam wake and a little noise of surprise from him. Then Dean heard Sam make his own trip out to the Impala and bring back some stuff. 

He made of show of waking up, big yawn, stretching and all. He looked over at his brother, who was still by the table. “Morning, Sammy.”

“Morning, Dean. Merry Christmas.”

Dean paused then said, “Merry Christmas, little brother.” He stood and scratched his stomach then came over to the table and the pile of gifts. There were a lot. “Jeez, Sam, what’d ya do? Max out one of the cards?”

Sam’s expectant expression fell and Dean felt like crap. Before Sam could turn away or say a word, he put his hand out, missing Sam’s shoulder. It landed on his chest instead but Dean left it there as he said, “don’t mind me. Just haven’t had my coffee yet. Why I’m such an asshole.”

Sam gave a tight smile. “Yeah,” was all he said though. 

Feeling like shit, Dean turned his full attention to him. “Sam. Hey, look at me.”

Sam finally looked up, wounded puppy expression on his face. “It’s all right, Dean--”

“Shut up.” It was said softly and with obvious affection. Without even thinking Dean leaned forward and grabbed Sam’s arm and propelled him to the bed. “You know I suck at this chick flick stuff so stay quiet for a minute all right?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “I know what you’re doing. And I appreciate it, Sammy. Last year…last year was a cock up. And now you’re trying to give me what I wanted. It’s nice.” Dean shook his head. “I’m not saying this right.” He paused again. “Thanks, I guess is what I mean to say. It’s been a while, you know?”

Sam finally smiled. “Can I talk now?”

“If you have to,” Dean growled playfully. 

Sam laughed. “I know things have been rough and bad for us lately. I guess I just wanted to make you, make us happy. I know how you feel about all this chick flick stuff but,” here Sam paused and had to clear his throat. “I promised I’d get you out of hell and I didn’t. Cas did that. I promised I would keep you going to hell and I couldn’t do that either. It’s not much but at least I can give you Christmas.”

Dean sat there for a minute then leaned over. Sam held still, waiting for a punch in the arm or something. Instead Dean put his arm around Sam’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

Sam leaned on his older brother’s shoulder, the silence unbroken. Then he lifted his head and said quietly, “Dean?”

Dean turned to look at him and they stayed stock still for a long moment. Sam reached up, slid his arms around his brother’s neck and leaned in for a hug. Dean went stiff then unfroze and returned the embrace. They sat there, on that much nicer hotel bed than normal, holding each other in silence. Then Dean heard a little noise coming from Sam and pulled back. 

Tipping Sam’s face up he wasn’t that surprised to see his little brother crying, a few tears falling free from his eyes. Sam raised a hand and scrubbed at his eyes, grimacing. “I know, such a girl, right?” He tried to laugh derisively but couldn’t quite manage. 

Dean thumbed at the wetness of Sam’s cheek. “Sam. God, I fucked you up, didn’t I?”

Sam looked startled. “What? No! Dean, why would you--?”

Dean had pulled away and was standing, crossing to the table. He grabbed one of the boxes and asked, “we gonna open this shit or not?”

“Dean--” but Sam stopped at the look he got. He crossed over and handed his brother the packages he had bought. Dean piled things in front of Sam as well. “You first?”

Nodding, Dean ripped into the first package, tossing the paper and ribbon behind him without a care. “Hey!” He was pleased at what he found. “Gun oil and polish!”

“I know how you like to take of your guns and knives, Dean.”

“Thanks Sammy!” He sounded genuinely pleased and Sam smiled. “Your turn.”

Sam pulled a smaller package to him and opened it carefully. He set the paper aside and pulled open the box. “Wow!” It was a nice new shirt, in Sam’s favorite color of flannel. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Yeah, your other ones were getting pretty threadbare.” Dean rubbed the back of his head then went to open another gift at Sam’s nod. “Holy fuck, Sammy!” He lifted the bottle of 12 year old bourbon from the box. “This is prime stuff.”

“Bobby recommended it.”

“Have to break into that later,” Dean muttered, setting the bottle aside reverently. He gestured to Sam impatiently, who carefully opened yet another package. It was a book, an older edition of some Latin text that Sam had once mentioned. 

“Dean…this must have cost a lot,” Sam half protested. 

“Nah. Got it from a guy who was selling stuff cheap,” Dean lied through his teeth. 

Sam shook his head and gently set the book aside, making sure it was far away from the bottle of booze. He nodded to Dean to open another and sucked in a breath as Dean chose a certain package. Dean saw his reaction and shot him a quizzical look but at Sam’s silent prodding he opened it. 

“Sam,” he gasped, pulling out a framed photo of Mary Winchester. The edging was as gold as her hair. She looked young and happy. “Where’d ya get this?”

“I called Missouri and she did some searching. She found a few pics of Dad around. I guess that was when Mom was engaged to Dad but before they got married.” Sam looked down and then back up. “I wanted you to have a picture of her that would remind you of the happy times.”

Dean traced a finger over his mother’s smiling face, remembering meeting her in the past, mixing with the few remaining memories of when he was a child. He looked up and choked out, “it’s great, Sammy. Thanks.”

A grin spread across Sam’s face and he nodded, pleased. To ease the embarrassment he grabbed a present at random--there were only 2 left--and pulled the paper off. He laughed out loud. “Dean! You got me an iPod?”

“Figured anything to keep you from douching up my car with that crap was worth it.” Dean watched Sam flip through the music that he had preloaded on it and then mock growled. 

“It’s all boy band music on here!”

“Isn’t that what you listen to?” Dean joked. 

“God, Dean, you’re an asshole.” He was smiling as he said. Dean noticed that as he went on he found some of his favorite artists and that there was also some other stuff on there, podcasts from certain shows, etc. “It’s great. Thank you.”

“Just don’t try to hook it up to my baby,” Dean half growled. 

“Promise.” He held his right hand up as if swearing. 

Dean also had 2 gifts left and he slid the bigger present over. It felt heavy. He pulled the paper off and opened the plain box to find several new pairs of jeans. Puzzled at why they should feel so heavy he lifted one out and laughed at what was underneath. The entire bottom of the box was lined with quarters. 

“This way you can keep your new pants clean,” Sam laughed, sitting back in his chair, out of hitting range. 

Dean shook his head but was happy, nonetheless. His jeans wore out quickly, through blood, dirt, and other exposures. He was inspecting them as Sam went to open his last present. 

Sam opened it slowly, as if savoring. He opened the smallish box to find--

“Dean?”

“What? Figured it was time you had your own.”

Sam lifted the key out of the box and gazed at his brother. It was the key to the Impala, a copy for his own. “I--”

“Don’t get all tied in knots, Sam. You’re already driving half the time anyway, might as well have your own,” Dean tried to brush off the moment. 

Sam put the key down on the table and pushed it over to Dean. “I don’t want it.”

“What?” Dean sat forward frowning. “The hell, Sam--?”

“No, I mean, I’m grateful. I am. And I know it means a lot to you, Dean. Thank you. But the Impala is your car. Dad gave it to you. I drove while you were,” Sam swallowed, “gone. I can drive now and again. But that car is yours.” He huffed, feeling like he wasn’t explaining himself well. “It’s yours and it’s home.”

Dean understood though. He’s always been fluent in Sam-speak. He nodded and took the key back. “We’ll keep it in the glove compartment as a spare then.”

Sam nodded, then gestured to the last present for Dean. He watched as his brother opened it and pulled out, “mistletoe, Sammy?”

“Yeah,” Sam tried to laugh, “figured you could use some help getting lucky.”

Dean scoffed. “I never need help getting lucky, bitch.” He held the mistletoe over his head. “Gonna kiss me and try it out?”

Sam lost his breath. He saw the ‘oh shit’ expression cross Dean’s face then he assumed that smirk he got when bluffing his way through. Sam levered himself half out of his seat and leaned across the table and kissed his brother’s cheek quickly. He sat back down a little heavily. 

Dean blinked then laughed. “That the best you can do?”

Sam shook his head. Only Dean would make kissing under mistletoe a competition. He was still thinking about this when Dean got up, crossed to where he was, hauled him up and put the mistletoe over his head. Dean kissed him. A full on, open mouthed kiss. 

Sam was so startled that he didn’t answer it at first. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, determined to give back as good as he got, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean. 

At last they broke free of each other’s mouths but Dean didn’t move from Sam’s arms. “Holy fuck, Tiger,” he breathed. “You can kiss.”

Sam was so dumbfounded that he just stood there. He watched Dean toss the mistletoe on the table and then he felt hands cupping his face and pulling him down. He closed his eyes without a thought and their mouths met in another kiss. 

When that one ended, Sam pulled back enough to ask, “Dean? Dean, what are we doing?”

Dean shook his head as if to clear it. He stepped back. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, what the hell?” He looked around the room as if searching for an escape. His eyes fell on the mistletoe. “Think it’s enchanted?”

Sam shot out and caught the bunch before Dean could grab it. “No.”

“What? Sam, we just fucking kissed and--”

“It’s not enchanted.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Because.” Sam stopped and Dean was about to interject when he went on, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Dean sputtered on what he had been about to say and then took an actual step back. “Sam. What the hell?”

He had to turn away. “It was when you were in Hell, okay?”

As if that explained everything. “As if that explains everything!” Dean grabbed for Sam, who stepped away just in time to evade. “Sam.” He lowered his voice. “Sam?”

Still turned away Sam began to explain. “It was after you’d gone to Hell. No demon would deal with me, I was miserable, I thought I’d failed you. And then Ruby--” he paused at the growl that came from Dean, “came by and I realized I didn’t want to live if you weren’t around.”

“So you slept with her.” Dean’s voice was tight and controlled. 

“And the whole time imagined it was you. I wanted you back so bad, Dean. I realized that you were my whole world, that my life meant nothing without you. And that that need had become charged with sexual desire.” He stopped then started again. “Ruby let me fuck her and call her ‘Dean’.”

“Holy shit.” Dean back up to the bed and sat down. 

“Yeah. She said she loved that I was that fucked up, that twisted. She used to coo in my ear, get me to tell her my fantasies.” He paused again. “And they got filthy, Dean. Really filthy.”

Dean rubbed at his face with his hand. “Sam…”

“But the ones I never told her about were the sweet ones. The ones where somehow I saved you. Kept you from going to Hell, or brought you out somehow. And how we would kiss and hug and just all that girly shit you hate. I would tell you how I felt and how you would, you know, _not fucking hate me_ , be disgusted by me.” Sam sounded like he was near tears again. 

Dean kept silent. 

“Ruby kept indulging me, while I kept feeling more and more like I was twisted, until she tempted me into drinking her blood. She said it would make me strong, strong enough to get you back. So I did.” Sam abruptly laughed, the sound bitter and hateful. “Then fucking Castiel raised you from perdition and you guys were making such eyes at each other and I just--” He stopped. “With Ruby I could still pretend, you know?”

Still Dean said nothing. 

“I stayed with her until I was addicted, until she had a hold over me. And I realized I would never get to be with you. So instead I went to kill Lilith to keep you safe. When I heard your message, or rather Ruby’s message,” he clarified, “I knew. Knew that I would never have you, in any way, anymore. But my last act would be to save you, Dean.” 

Dean had lowered his head now. Speaking to the floor, he asked, “that’s why you went to die in the battle against Lilith?”

“Yes. I figured I was going to Hell--if not for drinking the demon blood, if not for all the wrong I had done, then surely for wanting my brother like that. I knew and still I went.” He heard Dean give a mocking laugh. 

There was a silence that fell, full of expectant pause. 

“We didn’t die.”

“No. Instead, I started the Apocalypse. I raised Lucifer.” Sam still hadn’t moved, was still turned away. “Do you think that’s worse than wanting to sleep with my brother?”

Dean shook his head then realized Sam couldn’t see him. “I think in the cosmic scheme of things, raising the Devil is worse, Sam.”

Sam turned at last, eyes wet but no tears on his face. Instead an expression of great pain was in his gaze. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a good Christmas.”

Dean, who had looked up when he heard Sam turn around, got up without realizing it and went over to his brother. “It was. Still is.”

“Yeah, cause your brother confessing he wants to jump you fits right in with the holiday spirit.”

Dean let out a surprised laugh. “Maybe not. But knowing that you love me. That does.”

Sam held his gaze. “Even without the gay incest thing I love you, Dean.”

“Good to hear.” Dean closed the distance between them and reached for Sam’s hand, which had been crushing the mistletoe. “And with it?”

“Dean?” 

Dean stepped into Sam’s personal space and tugged his arms up and around himself, using his hands to keep Sam’s arms around him. “Don’t need mistletoe, Sammy, cursed or otherwise.”

Sam started to back away but Dean’s hands had him caught. “Dean? What--?”

“Shhh.” Dean kissed him again. A gentle peck on the mouth that turned into a deeper kiss. Sam gave himself over to the taste of his brother and they began to devour each other’s lips and mouths. 

“Oh shit, the mistletoe is cursed,” Sam muttered as he unconsciously pulled Dean close. 

“Nah,” Dean teased, “It’s you. You’re just that sexy, Sammy.” 

“Dean--”

Dean leaned in and kissed him again, shutting him up in the best way he knew how. “Okay,” he said as he pulled back, “not gonna go into emo overflow like you but listen up. You think you’re the only one who was doing everything for their brother? I died for you, kid. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You mean more to me than I could ever admit. For the first full month in Hell all I did was scream your name.”

Sam flinched. 

“Didn’t say that to guilt you, just to tell you. I was almost grateful when they kept torturing me with the physical stuff cause if they had used JedI mind tricks? If they had used you? I woulda broken a lot sooner.” Dean paused, eyes gone hazy with memories. He seemed to shake himself out of it in a second. “Why do you think I was so mad about Ruby? She took you away from me. You trusted her more than me. It hurt, Sam.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, not sure what, but something, when Dean pressed another quick kiss to his mouth. “Hush, not done yet. Probably from the moment Jake put that knife in your back I knew how much you meant to me, little brother. Been struggling with what that meant ever since.” Dean paused. “So obviously the mistletoe is not cursed. We’re both just seriously fucked up.”

“This is news?” Sam quipped before he could stop himself. 

Dean smirked but continued. “Lucifer is free, the damn Apocalypse has started and I don’t expect either of us to live through the next year. To hear that you feel the same way? Makes this a pretty great Christmas.”

Sam looked like he didn’t believe, like he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. So Dean hauled him close and kissed the living daylights out of him. 

When they finally came up for air, Dean used his head to gesture to the bed. “Wanna?”

“Think I put out on the first date?” Sam laughed. “Wait, we haven’t even had a date yet!”

“Please. Been dating you for years, Sam.” Dean took his hand and led him to the nearest bed. They started to kiss again when Dean suddenly darted away to the table. 

“Wha--?!”

“Kinky brother-fucker I may be but not that kinky,” Dean said as he carefully turned the pic of Mary Winchester down. Seeing the smile on Sam’s face he walked back to him. “What are you smiling at?”

“You. I feel like I’m in a dream or something.” Suddenly suspicious, Sam peered around. “It isn’t, is it?”

“It’s real.”

“That’s what I can’t believe.” Sam accepted Dean back into his arms, then laughed as they tumbled to the bed. They rolled around on the mattress until Dean pinned Sam by his arms. 

“Winner!” He crowed then bent down and licked at Sam’s lips. 

“To the winner go the spoils,” Sam murmured against Dean’s lips. 

“Never got that saying,” Dean replied, then forestalled what was probably going to be the history of the saying by attacking Sam’s mouth. The kiss was rough, passionate and sexy as all get out. Both men’s cocks began to harden. “Sam. Sam.” Dean kept saying Sam’s name as if to reassure himself his brother was still here. 

As if intuiting what Dean was not saying, Sam cupped his brother’s face and drew him in for a gentle kiss. “Dean. I love you so much.”

Dean froze for a moment, enough of a reaction to make Sam wince and have instant regret, then his whole body loosened and he replied, very softly. “Yeah. I love you too, Sammy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We didn’t get to see how season 4’s Christmas played out, unfortunately. What about Season 5?

Sam’s eyes got wide. He lost his breath. He could not remember the last time Dean had said those words to him. He was still lost in that startlement when Dean bent his body and started to tug up Sam’s shirt. Luckily, his brother was wearing only two layers today, flannel top and undershirt. Once Sam cottoned on to what Dean was up to, he half sat up and helped remove the clothing. Sinking back into the mattress, chest bare, Sam smiled. 

In that moment Dean saw his brother as he had once been. Not carefree--Sam had never been that--but not worn down and battered. He wanted Sam to always smile like that but knew it wasn’t possible. Instead he lowered his face and kissed that smile, trying to make it part of him, perhaps. At some point during that kiss he realized that Sam was tugging at his shirts, trying to get them off. He sat back and stripped off his layers as well, leaving the amulet against his bare chest. 

Sam reached up and cupped it, then looked through half lidded eyes up at Dean. They said nothing but fell back to kissing. 

As Dean’s pants started to get uncomfortable, his erection swelling within, he scooted away again. “Sam?”

“Hmmm?” Sam was tracing his fingertips up the line of Dean’s arm and shoulder, almost lazily. 

“Have you ever done this?”

“Done what?” Sam paused. 

“This.” Dean gestured between them. 

“Had gay incestuous sex with my brother? No, Dean, I haven’t.”

Dean slapped him lightly. “No, Sam. Had…you know…the gay sex?”

Sam couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him. “The gay sex?” He saw Dean’s expression and quickly schooled himself. “No. No, Dean. I’ve never had sex with a man before. Although I did kiss a couple of guys.”

“What?” Dean sat back on his knees, between Sam’s legs. 

He glanced at his brother and wondered whether to tell him about it. When Dean made a ‘so?’ gesture he told him. “Just twice. Once was when I was a teenager and once was at college.”

“You kissed a guy when you were still with us?” Dean couldn’t believe it. 

“Yeah.” He smiled a bit wistfully. “We were living in Idaho at the time. I had that friend, Michael?” He could see Dean didn’t remember him. “He was skinny and had shaggy blond hair and talked really fast. You and Dad were away on a hunt and I invited him over.”

“Sam!” Dean interrupted. “You didn’t!”

“I did. I was lonely, Dean. I just wanted some company. He crossed the salt lines, no problem and I’d already checked him with holy water so I knew he was okay. He came over and we watched some TV and stuff and then we got to talking and he said he really liked me. When I said I liked him too he said ‘no, I really like you Sam’. Then he leaned over and kissed me.”

Dean felt a flash of anger for this past misdeed run through him. He gritted his teeth and asked, “What’d you do?”

“I pushed him back and said I was very flattered but that I wasn’t gay,” Sam paused while Dean snorted, “shut up. He begged me not to tell anyone. I said I wouldn‘t. Then he asked if he could have one kiss, for real. I agreed to it. So we kissed.”

“What happened to him?”

“Two days later you guys came home and we moved again. I never even got a chance to say goodbye. I wonder about him sometimes. Wonder if he thought we left because of him.” Sam’s voice had gotten soft and sad. He pulled himself out of his memories and continued. “The second time was when I was drunk at a party in college.”

Dean smiled. “You? Drunk at a party?”

“It was the one year anniversary of the day I walked out of the house.” 

Dean stopped cold. “Sam…”

“I was pretty upset so I went out to get completely wasted. I almost called you, like, 10 times.”

Dean was remembering his own past, that night. He had wanted to go out and get drunk as well but his father had dragged him on a hunt for a poltergeist so he spent the night shooting his shotgun and his father shouting Latin. When he had gone to bed he had wondered what Sam had done that night, if he’d been thinking about him. Now he knew. 

“I was pretty blasted,” Sam was saying, “and there was this guy. I could tell he was eyeing me so I gestured to him and he came over and bought me a drink. And another. And another.”

“Jesus, Sam.”

“As we staggered out of the bar he said I was cute and did I want to go back to his place. I almost went. But then I looked at him and I realized--” Sam stopped. 

“Realized what?” 

“That he looked like you. That I had wanted to spend time with him because he reminded me of you, Dean. So I kissed him and said no thanks and walked back to the dorms. Woke up with a helluva hangover too.”

Dean wanted to ask something but he hesitated. Sam saw that and gestured to him. “Was this…before Jess?”

Sam took a breath. “I had met her the week earlier at a coffee shop on campus. We’d only talked, hadn’t even started dating yet so I guess yeah.” Sam grew reflective. “I wonder now if I didn’t get together with her because of that night.” He saw Dean’s perplexed expression. “That was the night I first realized I had…feelings for you, Dean. I buried them and then focused all my attention on this beautiful, normal blond girl.”

Dean was quiet then bent down and smoothed his hand over Sam’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Sam’s smile was sad and tinged with a hint of bitterness. “I don’t regret my time with Jess, I really don’t. Except for how it ended up killing her.”

“Sam--”

But Sam was done talking. He leaned up, captured Dean’s face and kissed him hard. Dean thought about protesting but he knew better than most how to deal with his brother’s mood swings and so he went along with it. Plus, it was a hot kiss. 

They gave over to their passions after that, setting the past aside. Rolling around on the bed, playfully giggling (that was all Sam-Dean would swear it to anyone who asked!), and just having fun and getting majorly turned on. They’d made it to just pants and underwear for both of them, sweat beginning to form despite the cold temperatures outside. 

Sam looked up at Dean through his bangs, still grinning from their fun but eyes serious. He licked his lips and reached his hand out, cupping Dean’s erection through the pants. Hearing the gasp, he smiled and began to rub. It was only a moment until Dean’s hand clasped over his and yanked it away, then Dean was scrambling up to rip open his pants and shove them down. As he hopped on one foot trying to get them off he looked at the bed. 

“What are you laughing at, Sasquatch?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, hiding his laugh. 

“You gonna take those off?” Dean gestured with his head at Sam’s pants and nearly toppled over. 

“Oh I don’t know,” came the seductive reply. “I was kinda hoping you would take them off for me.”

Dean had finished shucking his pants and had just pulled his underwear down and off when Sam said that and nearly fell flat on his face. He kicked them aside, where they rebounded off the chair and into the wastebasket, unnoticed. He stared at the bed. “Yeah?” he finally croaked out. 

“Yeah.” Sam let his hands trail over his still clad hips. 

Dean leaped back onto the bed so hard they bounced. As he opened the jeans and started to pull them down he stopped for a moment. The pants came off and then Dean put his hands on Sam’s underwear and pulled those down as well, Sam helping by lifting his butt up so they could be removed. 

Now completely naked in bed with each other, something that hadn’t happened since they were children, they paused. 

Sam was about to say something when Dean put his hand right on Sam’s cock. Giving an exhalation of breath, Sam’s dick hardened. Then he realized he hadn’t asked Dean an important question. “Dean?”

“Hmmm?”

“Have you ever…you know?” Sam gestured down. 

Dean’s hand went still. “Sure you want to know, Sammy?”

“Yes. Please tell me the truth.”

Dean looked up, warm hand still wrapped around Sam’s cock. “Yeah. I’ve been with a few guys in my day. Mostly when I was a teen and in my early twenties. Just to kinda check it out, you know?”

Sam’s emotions warred within him. While he wasn’t exactly surprised, per se, he was still a little dismayed to find that Dean had been with men before. And hurt that he hadn’t told him. “How far…I mean, how much have you done?”

Dean spoke while his free hand reached down and began to gently caress Sam’s balls. “Cocksucking. Giving and getting. Even 69ed with a guy. Hand jobs. Giving and getting. Humping. And…” here he hesitated. 

Sam, not allowing himself to be distracted by Dean’s talented hands, asked, “and?”

“I fucked a guy once.” 

“Who?”

“Just a guy I met.” Dean didn’t tell Sam that he had been tall, lanky with floppy hair and had, in fact, looked a lot like his baby brother. “It was while you were at Stanford.”

“Sounds like we both experimented. You never let anyone do you?”

“Nah. Never saw the need. Plus, too dangerous with most of the people I’ve slept with. Diseases and all.”

Sam grew alarmed. “Dean, you have played safe, haven’t you?!”

“Yes, Samuel.” Sounding more amused than put upon Dean shook his head. “I have my hand on your dick, the other one playing with your balls, I’m turned on as all Hell and you’re quizzing me about my sex life, Sam?”

“I’m just concerned, Dean.” Sam’s face softened. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Leaving one hand on Sam’s dick, Dean brought the other up to his face as he leaned over his brother’s body. They kissed and he breathed against Sam’s mouth. “Can’t promise anything, Sammy.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll try my damndest to stay with you.”

“And me with you,” Sam promised. 

As they kissed again, Sam’s hands roved over Dean’s body, then moved down and cupped his ass, pushing their groins together. They rubbed against each other for a time then Sam leaned up and bit on Dean’s earlobe. 

“Holy shit!” Dean cried out, his cock leaking pre-come. “You’re gonna pay for that, Sammy,” he growled playfully and startled to tickle his brother. 

“No! No, Dean, I didn’t mean to--!” He was laughing too hard to finish the sentence. He let the laughter come and stopped even trying to fight Dean off. When he was starting to have trouble breathing Dean stopped and bent down, kissing at Sam’s chest. 

“Love your laugh,” he murmured against the skin. 

“I love yours too. We don’t do it enough, you know.”

“I know.” Dean worked his mouth down, kissing and sucking as he moved. He was trailing his lips over Sam’s stomach, one hand on his brother’s hip and the other under his thigh. He moved the hand from Sam’s hip and it hovered over the impressive erection. “Sammy?”

Sam opened his eyes. “Yes, Dean. Whatever you want. Yes.”

Dean moaned. “Shouldn’t give me carte blanche like that, Sammy.” He heard Sam groan above him and grinned. “Does it turn you on that I know what carte blanche is, baby?”

“Yes,” came the breathy reply. “Damn you, Dean. Stop teasing.”

“So pushy.” But Dean moved his hand and wrapped it around the base of Sam’s cock. He felt it throb in his hand and had to take a deep breath. As he inhaled the beautiful, musky smell of his brother’s body his own cock started to leak. He bent his head and touched the flesh with just the tip of his tongue. 

“Dean!” Sam shouted. 

“Shhh,” Dean whispered. Then he licked a stripe up Sam’s shaft. He put his hands out to hold Sam’s hips, which had just bucked up. Then he applied both tongue and mouth to his task. 

A few minutes later, Sam incoherent with need, muttering in at least two languages, Dean pulled his mouth away. Before Sam could complain, he headed back up the long expanse of body and brushed their mouths together. “Your choice, Sam.”

“Huh?” Sam’s eyes were heavy with desire, his hair sticking to his head. 

“I can suck you off, give you what I’m told is an amazing blow job.” He paused. “Or…?”

“Or what?”

“Or you could fuck me.”

Sam lost all his breath. Then his expression became perplexed. “You?”

“No, the bald guy down the street,” Dean snarked then kissed Sam’s face to say sorry. “Yes, me.”

“No, I mean,” Sam was actually starting to turn red, “I just figured that _you_ would, you know…,” he trailed off. 

It took a minute for Dean to figure it out. “You thought, _I_ was gonna fuck _you_?”

Sam made a distasteful face at the term but nodded anyway. “Um, yeah. I just thought you wouldn’t want to be, um, penetrated like that.”

Dean took a breath and got off his knees, laying down beside Sam. He tugged his brother around until they were looking at each other. “Maybe. But see, it’s probably going to be at least a little painful. And so--”

“You figured if I did you, then you could take the pain?!” Sam was somewhat incredulous. 

“Well, yeah.” Seeing that his brother was getting all angry and indigent he went on, “don’t want you getting hurt.”

“And you think I want you getting hurt?!” Sam was outraged but then he suddenly calmed down. He understood more about his brother’s protective instincts now. “Dean.” He reached out and touched his face. “Thank you. It’s very sweet,” at Dean’s sign of protest he put his finger over Dean’s lips, “and I understand. But answer me this--do you want to be giving or receiving with this? And no bullshit.”

Dean looked down and saw that he had linked hands with Sam, their fingers threaded together. He was quiet for so long that Sam thought he would have to ask again when Dean looked back up. 

“I want to fuck you, Sammy. I mean, I’d be fine with you screwing my brains out but I really want to do you.” Dean took a breath. “To be the first--”

“And only,” Sam interjected.

“Guy inside you,” Dean shivered. He reached up his free hand and cupped Sam’s face. “Really want that, little bro.”

“Then have it,” came the instant reply. He put a finger to Dean’s lips, which had begun to protest. “I know you won’t hurt me, Dean. I’ll help you prepare me. If we go slow, be gentle, it shouldn’t hurt at all.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” A Winchester never broke a promise, he didn’t have to add. 

They looked into each other’s eyes for another moment then Dean nodded. “OK, Sam. Show me what to do.”

Sam hid the gleeful noise and instead smiled sweetly. “First, we need lube. As much as we can.”

“Got it.” Dean clambered out of bed and went to the dresser. Instead of keeping their clothes in their duffles, since this was a nicer hotel, they had actually bothered to unpack and put stuff in drawers. He reached in and pulled out a bottle. 

“This do?”

“Yes,” Sam nodded and waited for Dean to climb back on the bed with him. “Slick up your fingers Dean then push one inside me.” He grew dubious. “Or I can prep myself?”

“No way,” came the instant reply. Dean actually blushed. “I mean, I wanna Sammy. Deal?”

“Deal.” On his back, Sam watched his brother drizzle the lube and then rub his fingers together to warm it. He spread his legs as Dean settled between them, his erection growing again at the sight. He watched the hand disappear and then felt slick fingers touching his crevice. “Dean,” he moaned as the forefinger circled him, then pressed gently inside. He did not tense. He knew Dean was waiting so he reached up a hand and put it reassuringly on his shoulder. “Dean,” he repeated, this time with an undertone of urgency. 

Pushing the finger a bit further in, Dean watched his brother for even the slightest sign of discomfort. When he saw none he pushed the digit all the way in. Still no sign of distress from Sam so he crooked the finger and wiggled it around. On the second pass, Sam gasped and Dean immediately froze. 

“Sam?!”

Sam spit out several Latin curse words then looked at Dean. “I think you just found my prostate, Dean.” He gestured at his dick, which was now throbbing again and leaking pre-come. “That felt really good.”

“You scared me! I thought I’d hurt you.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t, I swear.” Sam tried for coy. “Do it again?” He smiled. 

Dean huffed but crooked his finger the same way and again and was rewarded with a buck of Sam’s hips and an incoherent cry. Amused, he poked hard at the spot and Sam’s whole body jerked. 

“Dean!” 

“So this is a man’s hot button,” Dean mused. 

“Dean,” Sam threatened, “don’t you dare.”

“What?” 

“You know what?”

Dean grinned. “What? This?” He pressed and crooked and teased the spot, first with one finger then easing a second one in, until Sam felt tingling all over. 

“Dean, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come!”

“Not yet, baby. Not til I’m in you.” He watched Sam’s cock twitch and reached up his other hand, squeezing it at the base. Sam let out a little sigh as he felt the pressure ease slightly. Then Dean withdrew his fingers and put more lube on them and slid three back in. 

Watching his brother writhe on the bed like a wanton, Dean felt such a rush. He was the one making Sam act this way. He was the one turning Sam on so much. And he was the one who got to take Sam higher. Withdrawing all his fingers, he rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of Sam’s inner thigh. “Sammy?”

Sam opened his eyes, the heat flooding out of them. He said nothing, simply waited. 

“Be sure.”

“I am.”

Nodding, Dean withdrew slightly, got the lube and put a generous amount on his cock. He slicked up the area around Sam’s hole as well. He lined his aching erection up and stopped there. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean began to press, very slowly, inside. Sam used old breathing methods from training to help ease the pressure. Every few seconds Dean would check his brother, who would nod or smile in some encouraging way. Sam would not let Dean know that there had been a slight burning sensation on the initial entry but that he had hid it, knowing the pleasure that was too come. Now there was no pain at all, just a wonderful feeling of being filled, of Dean inside him. 

Inexorably, Dean slid inside, until finally he was as deep as he could go. He could feel his cock pulsating within Sam’s warmth but did not dare to move. He waited for a sign from Sam. 

Sam, after giving himself time to adjust, lifted both hands and put them around Dean’s neck, drawing him down for a kiss. He lifted his legs and wrapped them around his brother’s waist, entwining them together. Lips barely touching Sam spoke. “You feel like perfection.”

Dean was partly amused at the poetic nature of Sam’s comment and partly thrilled at his comment. That was his Sammy, always the romantic. “You’re not hurting in any way?”

“Not at all.” Sam pressed soft kisses to Dean’s neck and by his ear. “You take such good care of me,” he whispered. 

Dean shuddered. To hear Sam say that…

“Take care of me now,” he continued, the whisper turning heated. “Love me now. Fuck me now. Be **mine** now.”

“Yes,” was all Dean could say then Sam’s hand guided his to Sam’s cock, covering it with his own. They began to stroke it as Dean thrust smoothly inside. As the thrusts picked up speed, so did the strokes until they were both moving quicker and quicker, their breathing getting heavier and sweat breaking out on their bodies. 

Sam felt his climax closing in and gripped tighter over Dean’s hand. Understanding, Dean quickened an already fast pace. 

“Dean--!!”

With one deep thrust, Dean pushed into Sam, his orgasm upon him. At nearly the same instant, Sam lost his own battle to hold himself back. As Dean flooded Sam’s insides, Sam spurted all over their still joined hands and onto each other’s bellies. His grip tight but his whole rest of his body going lax, Sam let out a sound that was part moan and part sigh of bliss. Dean was too lost in his own earth-shattering moment to take much note but he replayed it later over and over, pleased that he had given Sam such pleasure. 

As they collapsed together, Dean making sure not to put his whole weight on Sam, they still did not let go of each other’s hands, though they removed them from Sam’s rapidly deflating cock. 

Breath caught a few moments later, Sam turned and pressed a kiss to the nearest of Dean’s flesh, which happened to be a shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Who needs mistletoe?” Dean quipped, letting loose a laugh, then making a slightly wounded noise as Sam slapped at him. 

“Ugh!” Sam held up his hand. “We need to shower.”

“Hang on.” Dean got up and padded to the luxury bathroom--at last by Winchester standards. He came back with two warm, wet washcloths and handed one to Sam. They cleaned themselves up, then Dean took Sam’s hand and pulled him over to the unsullied bed. They fell on it together, tiredly trying to figure out how to sleep. They ended up legs parted, curled around each other, facing each other, both on the same pillow. 

“Sleep, Sammy.”

“Whatever you say, big brother,” Sam murmured, already halfway to dreamland. 

Dean followed soon after, but not before getting back up and setting the picture of Mary back upright. He smiled at her and said very quietly, “Merry Christmas, Mom.” Then he got back into bed with Sam and fell back into the embrace they had had, happy. At least for now. 

 

End


End file.
